


I Cannot Care

by LadyBrooke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Maedhros' rescue, Turgon and Fingon have to cope with reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Cannot Care

“Wonderful, simply wonderful,” Turgon said. “You went into the middle of Morgoth’s lands, in search of our doomed cousin who may very well have been better off left to rot.”

Fingon looked up at him. “I had to go.”

“Of course you did.” Turgon paced the tent, gesturing wildly. “I was a fool to believe that you had an ounce of sympathy for your own siblings that would keep you from chasing off after that damn cousin of ours! Who next? Will you chase Caranthir down when he gets taken off by orcs? Perhaps you’ll arrange for Aredhel to be friendly with Celegorm again.”

“Aredhel is free to make her own choices. But I didn’t do this because I don’t have sympathy for you - I love you, how can you doubt that?”

Turgon laughed. “Oh yes, I’m sure you love me. Love me enough to run off to rescue one of the people directly responsible for my wife’s death!”

“Maedhros tried to convince Uncle Fëanor not to burn the boats,” Fingon said.

He tried to grab his brother’s cloak and pull him back down to sit, but Turgon ripped it away.

“Tell yourself that when the Sons of Fëanor are all you have left, because you choose them over us. Argon’s death, my wife’s death, how many more deaths do you need to convince you to let them rot?” Turgon opened the flap to the tent as he spoke.

“It’s not like that - I couldn’t just leave him there,” Fingon stood too, following his brother.

“Tell that to someone else. I’m leaving. I no longer care what excuses you present for them. I’m too tired of listening to you defend them, worrying while you go off on suicidal rescue missions, and everything else you do. I cannot care about you anymore.” Turgon let the flap fall down behind him, while Fingon stood there frozen.

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the stories I should have written a while back. Turgon is one of the characters that as a writer is most intriguing for me, and I swings back and forth between adoring him and finding him completely understandable, and raging against the perfect Turgon I sometimes run across in fandom.


End file.
